


The Words of a Sermon That No One Will Hear

by VivaRocksteady



Series: Jake's search for his siblings [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), The Good Place (TV), 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Cultural References, Flowers, Gen, Jake's search for his siblings, Mourning, afterlife beliefs, bi everyone, bi jake, burial practices, relentless roger bashing, tomb sweeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-04-24 16:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14358825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivaRocksteady/pseuds/VivaRocksteady
Summary: Oh my god, she’s so funny! Mean, but funny. I wonder if Gina will like her.Then with a jolt, he’d remember she was dead.Or, Jake finds a sister, and loses her.(You don't need to know the Good Place or have read Turnabout Kid Brother to read this.)





	The Words of a Sermon That No One Will Hear

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this fic before Nutriboom and DFW aired. I was not expecting B99 to pick up the half-sibling OR pyramid scheme plots so fast! Not sure why I thought that, though, lol. This takes place between The Negotiation and The Puzzle Master. 
> 
> If you haven’t read Turnabout Kid Brother, the gist is that the siblings Roger mentioned in canon are kids he’s actually met, like Kate, but he has a bunch of other kids he’s aware of, but has never met. (And probably even more he’s not aware of, tbh.)
> 
> At the risk of making this a TRIPLE crossover and rendering my readership essentially nil, Jake’s little brother “Nicky” is Phoenix Wright from the Ace Attorney video games. I tried to keep him in a small OC capacity, but...

Amy Santiago was never idle. She didn’t know the meaning of the words “take a break.” Once, when she was ten, she spearheaded an extremely unpopular campaign to utilize recess time to clean and organize the classroom. She ended up doing it alone, of course, but still felt it was a better use of her time than _playing._

So when Jake was stuck in the safe house with Captain Holt’s husband, and the apartment was suddenly silent and still and _empty_ , Amy dove into whatever work came her way.

She took on extra cases and worked overtime. She filed her and Jake’s taxes, performed a long-overdue closet purge, and took their cars for tune-ups. She cleaned the house from top to bottom, took her good dresses to the dry cleaners, and properly pressed all of Jake’s shirts. She caught up on a bunch of cross-stitching she’d been itching to get at, including a large pattern of a beautiful, vintage Cuban cigar label that her mother had given her, which she then framed and hung in the living room. She listened to probably all the puzzle podcasts in the world while accomplishing these things.

And she focused tirelessly on the problem of Seamus Murphy, of course.

Amy also really wanted to have a nice surprise ready for when Jake came home. It seemed they were always being separated by Jake’s containment somewhere— Florida, prison, some nondescript house where he was forced to crawl on his knees. (Admittedly, under different circumstances, they’d both find that pretty hot. But these were not those circumstances.)

Amy knew Jake was insecure, that he was terrified she’d find someone better and move on in his absence. She was determined to show him she was in it for the long haul.

So Amy also used the time to open the thick, multi-tabbed binder she had titled Operation Heracleidae, her ongoing quest to track down and unite Jake’s diaspora of half-siblings.

The first page in the binder, protected by a soft plastic sleeve, was a hastily handwritten list of women’s names. After their disastrous/heartwarming family Thanksgiving, Jake had interrogated his father about his missing half-siblings, and had gotten this grudging list of names in return.

While reaching out to the daughters Roger had contact with, Jake and Amy also discussed tracking down the other siblings, the children Roger had never even laid eyes on, or probably even thought about. But Jake was too close, it was too important for him, and he got overwhelmed. So Amy started compiling her research in secret, and found the first unclaimed Peralta sibling— a young defence attorney from Los Angeles. She made another binder, and presented it to Jake, and his giddy surprise filled her with a warmth almost entirely unknown before.

Amy was a bit of a people-pleaser, she’d be the first to admit. If Captain Holt had long-lost siblings, she’d want to find them, too. But doing it for Jake was something else entirely. When she gave him that binder— when she gave him his brother— she knew she’d spend her whole life trying to make him that happy again. She was starting to wish the list of lost siblings would never run out, so she could bring him that joy over and over again.

—

Last time, Amy’s investigation had been limited to the women from Roger’s list who lived around Los Angeles, because that’s where they were going for their old captain’s funeral. Now she had at least two whole months, and the entire country— and beyond. So she had to narrow her search some other way, by seeing if any of Roger’s old flings were on social media.

Donna Shellstrop was the easiest person to find, as her public Facebook profile came up in the first page of hits.

Everything lined up. She was the right age, and if her profile was correct, she was living in Phoenix, Arizona at the time Roger was flying out there. (His memory of what routes he had at what time was not very useful, but it was easy enough for Amy to obtain airline records.)

A little more digging revealed that Donna Shellstrop had worked at a bar at Phoenix Sky Harbour Airport for four years in the ‘80s, at the right time to have met Roger. She was already married then, but Roger said that a fair number of the women on the list were. When relaying that to her, Jake’s face had been stony, a muted version of the angriest she’d ever seen him.

She had kissed his cheek and rubbed his shoulders. _I know you’re not like that,_ she didn’t say out loud, because she wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it yet. _You’re nothing like him._

Donna Shellstrop also had a daughter. Eleanor was only a year younger than Jake, and it would break his heart to have more proof that his father’s cheating started so early— maybe even before he was in the picture. But it was possible Eleanor was fathered by Donna’s husband. Roger had said the names he gave them were women who had told him they’d given birth, but they could have been lying, or he could be mixing them up. Donna could have terminated the pregnancy, if she was pregnant at all, and had her daughter with her husband.

But in that case, why bother telling Roger? According to Amy’s research, Donna’s then-husband, Doug Shellstrop, had died without other children, with Donna or any other women. Amy tried not to pass judgment on the deceased, but he didn’t exactly look like the most responsible person. Would he have really never had another kid?

 _But maybe Eleanor was the only pregnancy they kept_ , she thought. _There’s really no reason to assume Doug was sterile, or that Eleanor wasn’t his_. This was all just a fancy way of saying an old cop adage, always kept in front of mind during missing person cases: _don’t get your hopes up._

Too late. A few clicks over to Eleanor’s profile had Amy more or less convinced. Besides her Scandinavian features, Eleanor was _clearly_ Jake’s sister. She had a similar easygoing smile, but a sad, restrained insecurity in her eyes, a look that made Amy think Eleanor was used to disappointment. She was even wearing a similar uniform plaid button-down shirt in half her photos.

“Oh no!” Amy gasped, hands flying to her mouth.

Eleanor Shellstrop had been dead for two years.

—

Jake was going to be devastated. When Amy visited him in the safe house, he’d looked almost hollow, obviously keeping a lid on his desperate loneliness for the sake of the captain’s husband. He touched her softly, like he was afraid she was a dream, and she wanted to cradle him and shelter him and protect him from every bad thing in the world.

She couldn’t tell him. But she knew she needed to.

She went through every inch of Eleanor’s profile during her breaks. Like her mother, Eleanor was an over-sharer, and a total narcissist, posting constantly about the details of her extremely insular life. And complaining about everything in it, up to and including an old lady driving too slowly for her liking, and a homeless man with the audacity to ask for spare change.

The first sibling Amy had found, Phoenix— “Nicky”— was like a younger mirror of all the good parts of Jake. Soft and caring and compassionate, working hard to help others, and _so_ , so cute.

Eleanor was… well, Amy supposed, she was more like Roger. Unrelentingly selfish.

Amy glanced over at Gina, who had her feet up on her desk, staring at her phone, giving some excuse to Terry on why she couldn’t do something for him.

 _Gina’s pretty selfish, too, but she always comes through when it matters,_ Amy thought. _And Jake loves her._

Then her chest felt tight, because if Jake saw something to love in Eleanor— and he would— then this was going to hurt.

And even as Amy read more about Eleanor’s stunning selfishness, every day chronicling how little she did for anyone, the little scams and cons she pulled, the stunningly cruel language she used against others for the _stupidest_ of reasons— the more she saw what Jake would probably see.

Nobody who insisted “you’re not better than me” so often actually believed it. Eleanor didn’t like herself.

She wasn’t all bad, either. Amy was far enough in her timeline to see Doug Shellstrop’s death. Eleanor had contributed towards the funeral funds— despite emancipating herself from him at fourteen— and had posted how angry she was that her mother had shown up only briefly, and drunk.

 _I know my dadd wasnt grate,_ Eleanor had posted. _But come the fuck on lady!!_ Then there was about a hundred collapsed comments. Eleanor and Donna both fought frequently on their profiles, and on each other’s, and on perfect strangers’.

Amy skimmed through the argument, her mind going back to those shredded documents waiting in the break room, when she saw something that made her sit up straight(er.)

 _IDK why u care E_ wrote Donna. _u never cared about that crap bag b4. He wasnt even ur real father!_

The argument veered off where Amy couldn’t follow. Eleanor dismissed the claim— _you always say that when your losing, then other times you say you wer a virgin when u married him which is it????_ Then an all-caps reply from Donna that she _was_ a virgin when she married Doug and she was _never_ unfaithful and how dare Eleanor, her own daughter? Which only proved Eleanor’s point.

Surely no one would throw that out if it wasn’t true, just to upset someone? Well, Amy amended, only the most unhinged narcissist.

She looked at the break room, still overflowing with shredded papers. A hopeless task, with no end in sight. She really should be getting back to work.

Maybe she should call Nicky, and tell him what she found. Eleanor was potentially his sister, too. And it might be better to have a lawyer handle this part. If Amy were to take a wild guess, she’d say Donna Shellstrop probably didn’t like cops.

But Amy really loved a good puzzle _ _._ _

“Screw it,” she said. She went over to Donna’s profile.

Donna was selling some ugly makeup that stank of a pyramid scheme. _Support a local businesswoman and help me reach my $300 goal!_ was her top post.

Feigning an interest in the makeup got her friend request immediately approved, and a private message right away.

_hey beautiful! so stoked u want to try sum new makeup!_

_Sure am!_ Amy wrote. _But I was wondering if I could ask you a question first?_

_ofc hun!_

_It’s about your daughter, Eleanor._

_Oh, Eleanor! she was the best, hun beautiful just like u. the pink drink lipstick was her fave!!!_

“Ugh,” Amy said out loud.

 _Cool! So pretty!_ she wrote. _I noticed somewhere that you said Doug wasn’t Eleanor’s biological father. Do you happen to know if her biological father was possibly a man named Roger Peralta?_

Donna was quiet a long while. She started typing and stopped several times. Finally… _who wants to know?_

 _My fiancé is Roger Peralta’s son,_ Amy wrote, _and he’s trying to find his siblings._

____—_ _ _ _

Amy Santiago was freaking adorable/amazing. Every time he thought about her, Jake couldn’t stop smiling.

“I didn’t want to give you bad news,” she fretted.

“This isn’t bad news,” he said, lovingly touching the pages of information about his poor, deceased sister, compiled neatly in a brand-new binder. “I mean, it sucks that… but chances are that one of them…”

“I know,” Amy said. “I’m sorry.”

“Hit by an erection pill billboard truck,” Jake read. “That’s actually… kind of hilarious… I mean, if you _have_ to go.”

 ____“____ Jake.”

“Of course, I’m going to go out in a blaze of glory while saving the city from terrorists. They’re going to give you the key to the city in my honour!”

Amy sighed. “I just wanted to give you a nice gift when you got home.”

“Amy, this is an _amazing_ gift.” Jake scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her, covering her face with kisses. “Everything you give me is amazing.”

She laughed, and kissed him back. “What are we going to do with all that lipstick, though?”

“We’ll just put it in the closet with all those vitamins for now,” he said. “We’ve got the beginnings of a doomsday stockpile, at least.”

In the end, he had to fly to Arizona alone. “It’s too expensive for us both to keep flying around the country all the time,” Amy said. “I hope the next one’s at least in the tri-state area.”

“I hope the next one’s in Hawaii,” Jake quipped as he packed his overnight bag. “And you’ll have your promotion, so we’ll be raking in the money!”

“Don’t jinx it!” She hissed, looking so adorably fretful that Jake could only laugh, and hug her, and kiss her.

But when they got to the airport, he was sulky again. “I’ll miss you,” he said. “I hate being away from you.”

“I know,” she said. “But at least you get to spend some time with your brother?”

“Oh, yeah!” Jake’s face lit up. “I’m going to be _with_ Phoenix _in_ Phoenix. Eh??”

“Yes, Jake. Get out before you miss your flight.”

The rest of the day was a rollercoaster. Missing Amy, then reading through Eleanor’s Facebook on the airplane wifi. _Oh my god, she’s so funny!_ he’d think. _Mean, but funny. I wonder if Gina will like her._ Then with a jolt, he’d remember that she was dead.

Arizona was way too hot than anywhere had any right to be in April, so there was also that to contend with. And Amy wasn’t there. But everything lifted when he got in the lobby of the hotel and saw his little brother waiting in one of the chairs.

“Nicky!” he shouted from across the room. Kind of a Charles move, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Hey, Jake!” Nicky bounded over for a hug.

Jake was pretty sure he was living for these bro hugs now. He knew for fact that he wasn’t hugged enough as a child, and it seemed like Nicky wasn’t, either, and getting to hug now was the crest of the rollercoaster.

Then came the dip, because Jake remembered they were there to pay respects to their sister, who he’d never get to hug.

—

They went to a bar down the street, and tucked themselves away in a quiet corner.

“So I saw her mother earlier,” Nicky said between bites. “She offered the ashes for DNA testing. I explained to her like three times that it wouldn’t work with ashes, but she didn’t get it. Then she mentioned the ashes were buried in a shoebox, so the box might have disintegrated anyway.”

Jake frowned. “Is that legal?”

“It is in Arizona,” Nicky shrugged.

Jake didn’t have any big philosophical feelings about burial, and he’d seen enough dead bodies to know there was nothing romantic or special about them. It didn’t really matter.

But a shoebox was how you buried a pet, not a daughter.

“She’s in her mom’s backyard,” Nicky went on. “Which is also legal here. Her mom didn’t want to pay cemetery fees.”

Jake felt a scowl coming, but tried to repress it, because Nicky was looking wide-eyed and young, and Jake desperately wanted to be a good big brother.

“Anyway, she didn’t have anything of Eleanor’s. No baby teeth. I went to talk her old roommates but they’ve gotten rid of all her stuff. It _has_ been two years. So there was no old hairbrush or anything.”

“You talked to her roommates?” Jake grinned. “Nicky, that’s real detective work.”

Nicky blushed, and Jake grinned harder, because he had _never_ seen a fully grown man blush like that, and here was his _baby brother_ doing it _holy shit_ how _cute_!

“Everything matches up, though,” Nicky said. “Amy’s evidence is pretty telling. You know she got the dates of every single one of our dad’s flights? And Donna’s husband was in prison around the time Eleanor would be conceived. Amy even put his conviction report in the file she sent me. She’s thorough!”

“She is,” Jake said dreamily.

“My job would be a lot easier if the cops in LA were so thorough.”

“Uh, you mean _way harder_ ,” Jake said defensively. “You wouldn’t stand a chance with Detective Santiago on the case, bub!”

Nicky laughed, and Jake felt some of his earlier tension melt away.

“In any case, I’m convinced,” Nicky said. “Even if we could, I don’t think we need a DNA test.”

“Samesies,” said Jake. “Sucks though.”

“Yeah.” Nicky looked at the table for an awkward beat. “Are you upset she was cremated?"

“What?”

Nicky looked worried. “I don’t know many Jewish people… which is shocking for LA, now that I think about it. But isn’t cremation bad or something?

“Oh.” Jake sipped his beer. “Yeah, I guess. We’re not religious, though. And Eleanor wasn’t Jewish. So that part doesn’t really bother me. The shoebox, though…”

“Yeah,” said Nicky. “That bothered me, too. But from what we know about her, I don’t think she’d care very much."

“Sure.” Jake leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. “But is it like, ‘I don’t care because I’m exploring the universe as a tiny speck of light’ or is it that she wouldn’t care because she didn’t… really seem to like herself?”

Nicky looked down sharply. He wiped his eyes.

“Oh shit, Nicky!” Jake reached across the table. “Did I make you cry?”

“I cry easily,” Nicky muttered. “Don’t start.”

“I wasn’t going to start. I guess I cry kind of easily, too.” He let Nicky sniffle in peace for a little bit. “Can we do anything, though? Legally?”

“Like move her?” Nicky wiped his eyes again. “Her mom would have to give us permission, and she probably would. But Eleanor didn’t know us. We’d be doing it for us, not her.”

“Hmm,” mused Jake. “I guess if I were sitting in the afterlife and some random dudes disrupted my grave, I wouldn’t appreciate it.”

After a moment, Nicky asked him very softly: “Do you believe in the afterlife?”

Jake took a long pull of beer. “Are you asking if Jews believe, or if I do?”

“Either. Both.”

Jake was quiet a long time. “I haven’t been to temple since before my Nana died,” he said. “She had a big Jewish funeral. We sat shiva for the whole week, all that stuff. I was never really… into the religious stuff. If I remember right, you’re just… asleep until the Messiah comes. That’s why there’s no cremation.”

“What happens when the Messiah comes?”

Jake’s brow furrowed. “I think then its supposed to be heaven on earth? I’m not actually sure. And I don’t know what I believe. Nothing, I guess.” He fiddled with his beer bottle. “What about you? What do you believe?”

“I don’t know,” said Nicky. “My grandparents are in a Chinese cemetery. My mom and I don’t go every year, we’re not religious, either. But they do the tomb sweeping festival.”

“Tomb sweeping?” Jake grimaced.

“Yeah. In China, people travel, like, across the country to big family reunions at their ancestors’ graves, and tidy it. It’s um…” He stroked his chin, looking for the word. “It’s a way to make merit? I think?”

“Merit?” This was all sounding a little bureaucratic to Jake.

“When you die,” Nicky started, still clearly looking for the words, “there’s — there’s good places and bad places, but the good places aren’t paradise. It’s just more _life_. You’re still you, and you have the same issues, and cravings, and hang-ups. And there’s, like, bureaucracy.”

“I knew it sounded bureaucratic!” Jake shouted.

Nicky laughed. “Yeah, it can get complicated. Some really traditional people burn spirit money, so the dead person can use it in the afterlife. Or bribe their way out of hell.”

“That is badass,” Jake said, completely un-ironically.

Nicky smiled. “So if your tomb is well cared for, your afterlife self is, like, clean and hygienic, so things are easier. So the more loved ones you have to take care of it…”

“The better off you are,” finished Jake. “Like in Coco!”

Nicky sputtered a laugh. “S… sort of? It definitely has things in common with Day of the Dead. Anyway, tomb sweeping is a way to make merit, which helps you in the afterlife. And you can transfer merit to a dead person. Like, your work reflects on her? Or if you meditate or do something good, you can dedicate that merit to her, and it… helps her? Counts towards her karma? I don’t know.”

“Do you believe that?”

Nicky was quiet a long time. “I didn’t used to,” he said. “My old boss died a few years ago. Her family is Japanese and super traditional. They do a lot of similar things. And ever since then…” he shrugged. “I definitely think there’s something after death. And I kind of like this merit stuff, because… sometimes I work with people who have done bad things, and I can’t always save them. I like to think they might still get a second chance.”

Jake stared stonily at the table.

“I know cops probably don’t feel the same way,” Nicky said apologetically.

“No, I… I think I do,” Jake said, having realized that he would give Doug Judy an infinity of second chances, no matter how much it hurt to be betrayed over and over. He’d just always considered that a flaw, but in Nicky it felt like a strength.

“It seems like Eleanor wasn’t the best person,” Nicky went on. “But if she has to live through more… _stuff_ , it’s nice to think I can help her get it right somehow. Like if I can show her I care she’ll… try a little harder?”

Jake hunched over the table, and buried his head in his arms. The idea of _his little sister_ , who cut herself off from uncaring parents, who never had anyone to show her _how to care_ — the idea of her never getting another chance made his insides feel sharp and raw.

Nicky scooted his chair closer, and put his hand on Jake’s arm. He was sniffling. They sat together and cried a little bit.

“Sorry,” Nicky said when Jake straightened up, wiping his face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said all that.”

“It’s okay,” said Jake. “I just wish I could’ve met her.”

There was another quiet moment. Nicky looked at Jake hesitantly. “If you could meet her now, would you want to?”

Jake raised a brow. “What, like… with a ouija board?”

“Something like that.”

Jake eyed Nicky shrewdly. “Are you part of some new age Hollywood cult?”

“No!” Nicky made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh, and covered his face. "Just— hypothetically. Would you?”

Jake thought for a moment. While it would be admittedly cool, there was one key element. “It’s like you said. She didn’t know us. We’d be strangers to her.”

Nicky nodded. “Yeah. That’s how I feel.”

“But this merit stuff,” Jake said. “We could still do it, even though she didn’t know us?”

Nicky nodded. “You can send merit to anyone, I think.”

“…Even someone in hell?”

“Uh huh. In this… cosmology?” Nicky looked to Jake questioningly. Jake shrugged. “Hell isn’t permanent. It can last billions of years, but it’s not forever. Someone could work their way out.”

“It’s probably just because it makes me feel like there’s something I can do, but I like it,” Jake said. “Let’s get that tomb sparkling clean!”

He lifted his bottle, and Nicky clinked his against it, laughing.

“In the meantime,” said Jake, “we’ve never spent a whole night together. What should we do?”

“I think we should get drunk,” said Nicky.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Jake signalled for the waitress.

____—_ _ _ _

They had different rooms, but ended up in Jake’s, on separate double beds with lots more alcohol and a ton of candy. They told each other stories about their childhoods— both fatherless, lonely children of single mothers, ten years apart but so alike.

Jake gushed about Amy, and Nicky gushed about Edgeworth. They argued a little about cops versus defence attorneys, though Jake had mellowed out a lot on that front. Nicky knew about his time in prison, but he didn’t pry about it.

Eventually they went to bed, not wanting to be too hungover for their impromptu tomb sweeping ceremony.

Jake found himself unable to sleep.

“Nicky?” He whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Hmg,” Nicky mumbled. “What?”

“Did you want a sister when you were little?”

“I wanted any siblings. I told you.”

“Yeah, but… you didn’t think about it more than that?”

“Not really.”

Jake sighed. “I wanted a little brother to roughhouse with and play pranks on. Teach him how to ride a bike. Or how to drive, when he’s older. And I wanted a sister to tease and put spiders in her hair and… I don’t know. Beat up her boyfriends.”

“That’s…” Nicky sounded sleepy and unimpressed. “You can do that with either.”

“Yeah, but I wanted both,” said Jake. “Maybe it’s different for a gay guy.”

“What?” Nicky rolled over. “I’m not gay.”

“Ooookay,” said Jake. “Then I was deeply mistaken about your relationship with Edgeworth.”

Nicky laughed. “No, Jake. I’m bi.”

Jake flailed. He sat up on the side of the bed. “Shut up. You are not!”

Nicky blinked at him grumpily. “How am I not? Jake, I’m tired.”

“Nicky! No!” Jake bounced on the mattress. He whispered, because he had only said it out loud a few times in his life. “ _I’m_ bi!”

Nicky raised his head. “Really?”

“Yes! But I never… keep it to yourself. I’ve only told Amy and one other person. I haven’t, like, actually dated a dude or anything,” he went on nervously.

“Oh,” said Nicky. “I won’t tell. It’s nobody’s business, anyway. It’s academic.”

Jake bundled himself back into bed. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s just something I used to say before I started dating Edgeworth. I liked men but I hadn’t been with any. It was academic.”

“Oh,” said Jake. He was feeling a little giddy— he’d never talked to anybody about this besides Amy, and now he could talk about it with his little brother! “So it still counts? If I’ve never been with a dude?”

“Sure,” Nicky said sleepily. “You don’t have to do anything, it’s how you feel.”

They were quiet. Jake had questions, but he didn’t want to keep Nicky awake. So he was surprised when Nicky spoke again.

“Do you think… Eleanor was bi?”

“I was _just_ wondering about that,” Jake said. “She definitely dated guys, but she made comments all over this one girl’s photos that made me think, could she?”

“Yeah, I saw those,” said Nicky. “But maybe that’s just a girl thing?”

“Or a jerk thing,” mumbled Jake. “They were pretty… crude comments.”

“She did seem like kind of a bully. And what are the chances? Of three siblings all being bi?”

“Maybe she was and she didn’t know,” said Jake. “I didn’t know until… recently.”

“Really?”

“Why, when did you know?”

“I’ve known since I was nine,” Nicky yawned.

“Wow,” said Jake. “I might have some questions for you, then.”

“Anytime. I’ll show you all the ropes,” Nicky said, laughing, and soon Jake was laughing, too.

“Ten years is a big difference,” Jake said after they quieted down. “She was only a year younger than me. Maybe she would have figured it out the same time I did.”

He heard Nicky shifting in his sheets. “You know what you said about maybe she didn’t care because she didn’t like herself?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope it wasn’t because she didn’t like that she was bi,” said Nicky.

Jake was sleepy now, all the ups and downs of the day hitting him at once. “Well, if you’re right, then still has time to come to peace with it?”

“I guess,” said Nicky, but his voice sounded pained. Jake wondered if maybe knowing you were bi since you were nine might not be that great after all, but he was too tired and sad to dwell on it.

“Jake,” Nicky said.

“Mmh,” Jake mumbled.

“I don’t know how to drive,” said Nicky. “You could still teach me.”

Jake was too tired to open his eyes, but he smiled. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said. “I’ll be the best teacher ever.”

—

They had a late breakfast, both quiet and bleary between the mild hangovers and, at least for Jake, the heat. They took a cab for Eleanor’s mother’s house.

“How are you wearing actual jeans?” Jake groaned, splayed out in the cab’s back seat to maximize the air conditioner’s breeze. He was thankful he’d held onto his Florida clothes, even though they were super embarrassing to wear.

“It’s not that much warmer here than in LA,” said Nicky. “It’s nice.”

“Ugh. No. Anywhere that isn’t New York is garbage.”

Nicky only rolled his eyes.

Eleanor’s mother’s house was small and slightly worn down, but still had the cheery quality so many of the houses here seemed to have, all painted in sun-faded pastels.

“Heyyy boys!” Donna Shellstrop greeted them at the door, hair held up with a ton of hairspray, cocktail glass in hand, teetering on strappy wedge sandals, even in the house.

Definitely Dad’s type, Jake thought. God, he’s so predictable.

“Come on in!” she said breezily. “Get out of the sun before you sweat out of those clothes.” She sipped on her drink and sized them both up lasciviously. Jake heard the sounds of a soap opera drift in from another room.

“Mrs. Shellstrop, this is Jake,” Nicky said.

“Ooh! Phoenix, you didn’t tell me your brother was just as sexy as you!”

Nicky stared at the floor, blushing.

“Ma’am— whooooah!” Jake stepped back as Donna reached out and groped his bicep. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn the tank top after all?

“Mmm, just as strong as your dad!” Donna letched.

Jake and Nicky both sputtered.

“Oh, look at you.” Donna caught Nicky’s jaw in her hand, making his mouth pinch. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. You’re related to Eleanor, not me!”

“Ma’am!” Jake shouted. “We’d really just like to see where she’s buried. Please?”

Donna released Nicky’s face, pouting. “Oh, poo. You young people are all such prudes!”

Jake put himself between Donna and Nicky as she led them through the kitchen to the back of the house. Two small dogs ran up, yelping excitedly at her heels.

“Shut up, you two. Mommy has a headache!” she yelled.

Donna let the brothers out into her small backyard. It wasn’t entirely neglected, with a scraggly tree on one side, and a lawn that was perhaps a little spotty and dead, but not terrible for the desert in the spring.

“Here she is.” Donna led them to a far corner, near the tree but not quite in its shade. “Around here, anyway. Please excuse the brown spot. Took forever to get these dumb dogs to stop peeing there.”

Nicky gave Jake a wide-eyed look, but Jake shook his head. _Not worth engaging,_ he thought.

They looked at the spot quietly for a little bit. Maybe it was the heat and the hangover, but Jake didn’t really feel anything. She wasn’t there anymore.

Nicky, though, had his fists in his pockets, and was shifting forward and back on his feet nervously.

“Ma’am, would it be alright if we put a marker here? And maybe planted a few flowers?” Jake asked.

“Sure thing, sweet cheeks. As long as I don’t have to do anything, have at her!”

They went to a big box store, both of them silent in the cab. Nicky went off to the craft section while Jake pushed a cart down the gardening aisle, unsure what to do.

His phone buzzed, and to his great joy and relief, it was a text from Amy.

_How’s it going?_

_Heyyyyy! <3 it’s going ok. Miss you._

_I miss you, too. Did you find her grave?_

Jake hesitated. _There isn’t one,_ he finally wrote. _We’re gonna plant a garden 4 her. If we can figure out how._

_Oh! Did you call your mom? She can help!_

_You don’t think that would b weird? since its dads kid w someone else?_

_No, your mom is super chill. It’s not like she doesn’t know._

_Yeaaaahhhhhh_

_I have to go, babe. Good luck! Xo_

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxox!!!!!!!!!!!_

Jake wandered aimlessly for a bit, then called his mom.

“Hey, sweetie! How’s it going? It’s not too hot out there, is it? You should be wearing a wide-brimmed hat!”

“Mom!” He got a word in edgewise. “We’re going to build a garden for my sister. What should we plant?”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Did she have a favourite flower?”

“I don’t think so,” Jake frowned. Could they make a garden out of vodka bottles? Would that be appropriate?

“Well, you’ll want to pick native plants, or at least desert plants. It’s very dry there. Are you drinking enough water?”

With her advice, Jake picked out some bushes of an elegant pink flower called Bougainvillea. He got to a whole section of cacti, some palm-sized, some in huge terra cotta pots, with large, bright flowers on top.

“I didn’t know cactuses could have flowers,” he said.

“Oh, yes!” said his mom. “Some cacti are really gorgeous. One time your father brought me a beautiful little prickly pear cactus from Phoenix— probably around the same time he had your sister!”

Jake rolled his eyes and let her keep talking. Amy was right, she was _very_ chill about this whole situation. He saw Nicky coming back his way.

“I managed to keep it alive for three years, until your father got drunk and sat on it. Completely crushed it. He was sore for days!”

“Mom, I gotta go. Thanks for the tips!”

“Anytime, sweetheart. Remember to put on sunscreen!”

“Wow,” Nicky said when he caught up with Jake. “I didn’t know cactuses could have flowers.”

“Right? It kind of seems like a mistake,” Jake replied.

They ended up getting one of the biggest cacti, with a halo of huge orange flowers on top. They both had to struggle to get it into the cart. They also got the Bougainvillea and some delicate tiny purple flowers called lantana.

Nicky had found a big wooden letter E— maybe something a teenaged girl would have on her door, but it’s not like they could get a real headstone in one day, even if they could afford it. Nicky also got a glaze to weatherproof it, and some paints in different colours, all matched to outfits Eleanor wore the most in her photos— blues, whites, and a little bit of pink and gold.

As they were pushing the cart together, since the cactus was so heavy, Jake noticed some plastic pots of round, cheery yellow flowers on tall, thin stems.

“I’m going to get these, too,” he said.

“Those?” Nicky sounded skeptical. “They look kind of… weedy.”

“Then they’ll survive Donna’s backyard,” Jake said. “I don’t know. I just want them.”

They got soil and tools, and went to check out, dividing their haul into two payments.

“Oh, I gotta find sunscreen,” said Jake. “B-R-B!”

He found the sunscreen, grabbed a few bottles of blue Gatorade, and on his way back, noticed some small, decorative stones.

“All this trouble,” Donna mused from her couch as she watched them sweatily carry the giant cactus through the house. “I’m not complaining about the view, though!”

Neither Jake or Nicky were particularly good handymen, but thankfully the internet was full of how-to videos.

They put the orange flowering cactus in pride of place, just slightly off the area Donna thought Eleanor’s ashes were buried. Nicky glazed the wooden E, then painted it a light blue with gold accents on the side, while Jake dug up the brown stain and spots for their flowers.

They planted the pink bushes and tall yellow flowers into a wreath around the spot where Eleanor was. They put the delicate purple flowers around the cactus pot.

Every so often Jake would go to rest under the shade of the scrubby little tree, slathering on more sunscreen, as he was pretty sure he’d sweated the last layer off.

Donna seemed very blasé about their project. She brought them water and lemonade— though she was very confused when they said they didn’t want any alcohol in their lemonade— and she scolded the dogs when they snuffled around the flowers. She made a few more crude comments about both of them, but thankfully only mentioned how much Jake was _just as manly as his dad_ once more. Mostly, she left them alone.

Jake drained the last of his Gatorade. The dogs, who were a lot sweeter than Donna would have them believe, sprawled out beside him for belly rubs. Nicky was finishing painting the terra cotta pot, brightening it up with white and pink, with a gold ring around the rim. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

After a few hours of work, they cleaned up the yard and took a couple bags of trash out to the curb.

When they went back to the yard, and saw the tomb from a distance, Jake smiled.

The orange cactus flower was almost glowing in the waning sunlight. The pink bushes and tall yellow flowers formed a protective cradle around the spot they thought Eleanor’s ashes were. The letter E was resting proudly against the pot, buffered by delicate purple flowers.

It looked, despite being in someone’s backyard and missing a headstone, like the grave of a girl who was loved.

Jake felt something now. She still wasn’t there, but it seemed more like the memory of her was.

“Here,” he said, after taking a few pictures on his phone. He handed Nicky a small, smooth, glass stone.

“Huh?”

“It’s a Jewish thing,” Jake explained. “One for each of us, to leave with her.”

He gently put down his own stone, grey and smooth, on top of the letter E. Nicky put his down next, smaller, blue, and translucent.

“Oh, boys,” Donna said, appearing for once without cocktail glass in hand. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Jake was surprised. She had seemed so wholly disinterested. “I hope it’s easy to take care of,” he said.

“It will be. I’ll look after it.” She reached out and gently touched the tall, yellow flowers. “Desert marigold. These grow everywhere out here, you know.”

Nicky gave Jake a flat look. Jake waved him off.

“She loved desert marigolds,” Donna went one. “She used to pick these by the bunch and bring them to me when she was little. Before we…”

She was quiet a moment, and wiped her face. “How did you know?”

Jake blinked. “I just thought they looked nice.”

“They do,” she sniffled. “Thank you.” She hugged them both, and this time didn’t make any passes.

After a few more moments of respect at Eleanor’s tomb, they went back to the hotel, grubby and aching and tired. They went to shower in their own rooms, and had dinner in the hotel restaurant.

“I think my back is going to be aching tomorrow,” Nicky groused, fingers and face covered in hot sauce.

“You think _yours_ will?” Jake scoffed. “You’re just a kid! I’m gonna need Percocet!”

They dared each other to eat hotter and hotter wings— a contest Jake won easily— and cooled their mouths with a pitcher of beer.

“Why’d I have to book an evening flight home,” Jake moaned. “I’m so tired.”

“Just think of Amy,” Nicky said, crunching on some celery. “The sooner you go, the sooner you can see her.”

A different heat entirely rose up from Jake’s belly, and he grinned. “Okay. Let’s go!”

When they got their bags and checked out, Nicky stopped Jake on the pavement in front of the hotel. The sun had long set, and the heat had almost entirely dissipated, and Jake shivered a little at the sudden difference.

“I got these when you went to get sunscreen,” Nicky said, handing Jake a small packet. “It’s seeds from the marigolds you wanted.”

“Why?” Jake looked at the little packet. “You thought they were weeds.”

Nicky shrugged bashfully. “I trusted you, I guess. I got one, too. I thought maybe we could grow them at home. And maybe… wear them on our lapels at your wedding…”

Jake smiled, and it felt big and easy, even though he was pretty sure his face was sunburned. “You’re the best little bro,” he said, hugging Nicky close. Nicky laughed, and hugged back, and neither cared what anyone might think of two grown men hugging.

“Here,” Nicky said when they broke away from the hug. “We’ll drop you off at the airport.” He nodded at a _very_ snazzy red sports car pulling up to the curb.

His boyfriend, Edgeworth, got out and went to open the trunk. He nodded curtly, even as Nicky kissed his cheek. “Wright. Detective Peralta.”

“Holy shit, Edgy, this is _your_ car?” Jake boggled. “And you let Nicky get in?"

“Ha ha,” Nicky said, dumping their bags in the trunk.

“Did you drive all the way from LA?” Jake asked, after he got in the backseat and buckled up. “Isn’t that like, five hours?”

“It’s only three hours if you drive like Edgeworth,” Nicky muttered.

“I enjoy the long drive,” Edgeworth said primly. “I grew up in Germany and learned to drive on the Autobahn.”

“Ooh!” Jake gushed. “Faaaaancy!”

“Jake’s going to teach me how to drive,” Nicky told Edgeworth.

“Not in this car, he isn’t,” Edgeworth said.

Nicky snorted, and looked back at Jake. “We’ll have to figure out where. You’re not going to have time when I’m in New York for your wedding.”

Jake watched the flat, hot landscape pass by. “How about next spring? We’ll come do the tomb sweeping, and I’ll rent a car.”

Nicky grinned at him. “You’ll bring Amy, right?”

“I guess I have to,” Jake said, enjoying the warmth in his belly. “If this is going to be an annual tradition.”

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby." 
> 
> I'm not Jewish, and Nicky's half-remembered Chinese traditions are from my childhood, which, like him, was not super immersive in my mom's culture. I hope I didn't step on anyone's toes!
> 
>  
> 
> [I'm on tumblr!](http://vivarocksteady.tumblr.com/)


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